


License (Resolutions)

by devovere



Series: Five Fantasies Plus... [3]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angry Warrior speech, Angst and Feels, Confessions, Devotion, Episode: s02e25 Resolutions, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mutual Pining, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 15:45:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16537496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devovere/pseuds/devovere
Summary: While stranded together on New Earth, after Chakotay's "angry warrior" speech, Kathryn has to confront their mutual feelings. Chakotay helps her find a way forward.





	License (Resolutions)

**Author's Note:**

> Warmest thanks to BlackVelvet42 who was my sounding board for this fic's implausible initial idea, and to both her and Caladenia, who carefully beta-read drafts and gave sound advice about writing problems large and small. Any remaining errors, of course, are entirely my own.

“... The woman warrior was brave and beautiful and very wise.” Chakotay's voice grew even more fervent. “The angry warrior swore to himself that he would stay by her side, doing whatever he could to make her burden lighter. From that point on, her needs would come first.” He paused and seemed to gather his courage before continuing, quietly. “And in that way, the warrior began to know the true meaning of peace.”

I exhaled, a smile of bemused wonder spreading helplessly across my face.

_So much for parameters._

To buy time, I asked, “Is that ... really an ancient legend?”

Of course it wasn’t. I’m not _that_ blind.

It was Chakotay’s heart, laid bare at my feet.

He looked down, smiling bashfully. Then he met my gaze squarely. “No. But that made it easier to say.”

There was nothing shy in his glance now. He simply sat before me, open, steadfast. Waiting.

My heart was in my throat, blocking any words I might have uttered. Truthfully, though … I didn’t know what to say.

I had always imagined that if we ever let ourselves connect beyond the professional or the platonic, it would be a mad tumble into bed, finally succumbing to overwhelming physical attraction. But Chakotay had just made it crystal clear—for all he’d told it as allegory—that what he felt for me, first and foremost, was nothing less than utter devotion.

I felt more worshiped than desired. And I had no idea how to respond to that.

Finally I simply raised my left hand, palm facing him. He reached for it, intertwining his fingers with mine, his grasp warm and patient.

It was the first time we’d ever held hands. As his thumb rubbed in a small circle over the back of my hand, a powerful sense of purely emotional—almost spiritual—connection filled me, until tears overflowed and ran down my face.

I don’t know how long we sat there, staring into one another’s eyes. But I finally realized that it was up to me to break the silence.

I swallowed, drew a shuddering breath, and broke free of our handclasp to wipe my cheeks dry. He folded his hands again on the table. His gaze on me now spoke of hope commingled with helplessness. He was at my mercy, and I was suddenly frightened I would hurt him.

“Chakotay,” I murmured. “I feel … so many things for you, so strongly. I can’t put them into words and give them to you as a story.” My mouth was dry, and my breath came short. “I’m afraid of what this step would mean.”

Now he smiled slowly and began to relax. “Kathryn, I will never ask you to give me more than you wish. I meant it when I said that your needs come first.”

“My needs,” I answered, shaking my head, “are what terrify me.”

He reached for my hand but I pulled away. “Why?” he asked.

I felt my cheeks grow hot. _Courage_ , I told myself sternly. The man deserved my honesty.

“I’m not sure my heart is worthy of yours,” I blurted out.  

He shook his head, denying my self-doubt. “How can you think that, Kathryn?”

“I’ve pushed you away,” I insisted. “You know I did, so many times. Now that we’re staying—now that I have to accept that we’re staying …” My voice grew husky. “You're not a consolation prize, Chakotay. You deserve everything I can give, not just ... ashes and desperation.”

He sat for a moment, taking in what I’d said. “So you need … time to adjust, to heal?”

The loving concern in his eyes made me squirm. How could I sully his heartfelt declaration by revealing the overwhelming carnality of my feelings for him? Could I even distinguish between love and lust after so long suppressing both in his presence?

I swallowed nervously. “I need … what I never should have let myself start wanting.” I was teetering on the edge of an abyss, careening at long last toward the truth.

“I don’t understand.” His face was so open to me. Innocent.

I finally had to look away from him as I confessed, “I want you so badly. I have for so long. It’s all I can think about sometimes.”

I endured a moment of frozen, silent shame, and then he made a noise I couldn’t interpret, a kind of growling sob from his chest, and I looked back at him quickly. His hands covered his eyes, masking his expression.

“I shouldn’t have told you that,” I said quickly. “You must feel I’m being cruel, teasing you.”

“No,” he said forcefully, suddenly placing his hands flat on the table. The gesture held so much restrained intensity that my pulse began to race. “No, Kathryn, just the opposite. You’ve given me more hope than I’ve ever dared let myself feel about us.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. “You must have known. You must have guessed.”

“That you’re attracted to me?” He shook his head. “I wanted it to be true so badly that I couldn’t trust how I was reading you.”

My lips parted in shock. “Oh.” That was all I could manage.

“And yet you’re frightened of us acting on our attraction? Kathryn, let me assure you right now, I will never pressure you, never touch you in a way you’re not ready for—”

I interrupted with a short, bewildered laugh. “Good grief. Have I actually let you think that I’m afraid of sex?” He shrugged, bashfully apologetic. I sought to reassure him. “Just the opposite. I quite like it.” Then I found myself admitting, “It’s been … very difficult. Going without.”

The shelter suddenly seemed warmer.

Chakotay shook off a glazed look. “Um,” he muttered, looking away from me. “Yeah. Same here.” Then he bit back something, falling silent.

The bow in his neck and shoulders, the way he held himself in check—he’d stood that same way an hour ago, after the neck rub, as I told him good night. It wasn’t just arousal. It was a longing so old that he wore it like a shroud. A second, invisible, uniform, I now realized.

“Wait,” I said with sudden perception. “You mean—on the ship, too? You weren’t seeing anyone?”

He looked at me as if in wonder. “How could I have?” He clearly wasn’t thinking of protocol or shipboard discipline. “When you were the only one I could imagine—”

“I’ve fantasized about you,” I revealed in a whisper. My voice was hoarse, my throat tight. “It was so wrong, you were my subordinate, I was engaged to another man. I always felt so guilty afterward.” He made a noise of protest. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t seem to help it.”

He rose then, walked around the table, and drew me to my feet with his hands under my elbows. I felt the heat emanating from his large solid body and closed my eyes.

“What about earlier? While I was massaging your shoulders? I sensed you were—thinking about something else.”

The images flashed through my mind again, vividly erotic. I blushed violently but couldn’t make myself pull away from his grip. “You—don’t even want to know,” I choked out.

“Well,” he said, spreading his hands. “It seems only fair to let you know that I’ve been imagining you as well.”

I raised my eyes to his face. “You have?” My breathing had quickened.

“Oh, yes,” he assured me. “Ever since you got between me and Tom Paris the first time I set foot on your bridge. You have no idea the direction my thoughts were going when you called me into your ready room and asked me to serve under you.”

I licked my lips. “Oh, I might,” I said faintly.

“But I’ll tell you one thing, Kathryn Janeway.” His dark eyes bored into mine, inches from my face. “I never once felt guilty about it.”

Before I could say anything in response, he kissed me. It was gentle, probing, sweet, and it went on just long enough to convey a promise of more. Of everything.

By the time he ended the kiss and straightened up again, I was clutching his shirt front for balance. He cupped my chin in one hand and said again, “I never felt guilty. And neither should you.”

And then he walked away.

Fingers on my tingling lips, stunned into silence, I watched him go. He stopped in the doorway and turned slowly to face me.

He said, “You’re afraid you’ll become my lover for the wrong reasons. I respect that. I appreciate it, actually. I’m a very patient man, Kathryn, and we have the rest of our lives to get this right. When you’re ready, you’ll come to me. And in the meantime, I intend to court you, more openly than I’ve done all along down here, and I promise we will both enjoy that as well.”

He smiled at my mute enchantment. Then he turned away again, but instead of leaving, he reached out and gripped the door frame with both hands. He was so large; somehow I’d never quite realized how much space he filled just standing still.

Keeping his back to me, he added in a forcedly casual tone, “Oh, and by the way. I’ll be out for the next hour or so. I’m sure you’ll enjoy a little solitude. But if you get lonely … “ His voice roughened, thick with desire. “Think of me. I will certainly be thinking of you.”

Then he was gone.

* * *

I’d been thrumming with desire since he’d first laid his hands on me almost two hours ago. Once I was settled again in bed and had called for the lights to dim, it took almost no time for the scene to take shape and play itself out in my mind.

_We’ve just parted after the neck rub this evening. He is still sitting at the table with the central lighting on, while I toss and turn in bed, fevered with need._

_But this time, instead of forcing my libido down into hiding, I let it blossom and swell. Instead of marching out to confront him with a demand to discuss parameters, I appear quietly in the doorway to my sleeping area and wait for him to look up and see me. I watch him take in my come-hither stance, one forearm held along the door frame and my hip cocked to the other side._

_His eyes follow my hand up to my neckline, where it opens a button, and then another, and then another. He starts to stand, but I motion for him to stay in his chair. Then I saunter out into the main room, approach the table where he sits motionless staring at me, and stand directly in front of him._

_He waits. I know he wants me, but I also know he’ll follow my lead. I have nothing to fear from this man. And we have no need for words._

_I lift my nightgown over my head and stand before him naked. His eyes darken with raw desire. I don’t make him wait._

_I bend forward, tug his tunic off, and quickly open his pants. Like me, he wears nothing underneath, and his hard cock springs free. It juts proudly from his groin, thick and heavy, foreskin stretched around a dark glistening head._

_I place my hands atop his thighs and bend a little further, legs still straight, my ass in the air. I give him a lick like an ice cream cone. He jerks and then dares to place his large hands around my skull. I smile lasciviously and then take him in my mouth, sinking down along his shaft as far as I can go. He moans, and then he’s pressing my shoulders away from him, off of him. I keep suction so that he comes free of my mouth with an audible pop, and then I stand straight, licking all around my lips as if catching drops._

_He reaches forward to press long fingers between my legs, and his breathing grows harsh upon finding me so slick. He starts to stimulate my clit, and I let my hips sway towards him briefly, eyes closing with pleasure, fingers working my own nipples. He makes a strangled sound in his throat, and something bursts open within me, cavernous, ravenous. I must be filled. Now._

_I grab his arm and pull him to his feet, then turn us around and back him against the table. His pants fall from his ankles and he hoists himself to sit naked on the table._

_I climb him like a tree, my hands going from knees to hips to shoulders to the top of his solid head. My feet straddle him in a deep squat as I pull his hair back, forcing his face up. We are both panting. Sweat beads on his forehead. My face is tight with concentration as I lower myself, seeking him, shaking with the effort of control in this maelstrom of passion. His hands grip my haunches, supporting and guiding me, and as I at last impale myself on him, our lips meet for the first time and we swallow each other’s groans of ecstasy._

I came hard, alone in my narrow bed, his name on my lips. I was curled over my spread knees, head braced on a forearm, riding my right hand, nightgown damp with sweat.

I took the time to notice that I felt glorious. Then I imagined Chakotay out there in the night, leaning against a tree, fisting himself slowly to a vision of me as I was right at that moment.

Another small orgasm took me unawares.

I rose to my knees and waited for my breathing to slow.

I wondered how many nights we would repeat this arrangement. If we would ever discuss it. If I might, one day, invite him to stay in the shelter, within earshot but out of sight as we each pleasured ourselves to the sound of the other’s gasps and whimpers and moans. If I might send him to the woods with a commbadge, share a fantasy to mutual long-distance orgasm. If we might take down the partitions between our beds and then take turns, each inviting the other to watch without touching.

So many fantasies. So many, many ways to want him and be sated, without taking that final step.

I wondered how long this would be enough, and what would need to change for me to tear down this final wall of control and let imaginings become reality.

* * *

The answer to the first question—how long?—proved to be some immeasurable, irrelevant number larger than ten days.

The second question—what would have to change?—went unanswered.

Tuvok’s flat voice on the comm, broken by static, ended Chakotay’s courtship and forced me to start the painful, needful work of rebuilding my crumbling walls.

But I would remember some things from New Earth. I’d remember that Chakotay was a very patient man. That we had the rest of our lives to find our way towards one another.

And that he didn’t want me to feel guilty.


End file.
